I threw my little brother out the window…BOOM, off the fence, into a tree.

“Not him! The book!”

“Oh,” I ran to the backyard, pulled my little brother off this bee-hive, plucked the stingers from his body and brought him back inside all swollen.

“Put him back in his crib,” my mother pleaded.

“You think he’ll fit? He’s pretty swollen.”

“Yes! Put him back!”

“Is the cucuy or the spoon still gonna get me if I do?”

“No, I promise.”

“What about Mickey Mouse? Is Mickey Mouse gonna get me?”

“Mickey Mouse is in Disneyland, mijo. He can’t possibly get you. And I can’t possibly get you there, it’s much too far away, you’re safe.”

“Okay, look,” I said, “Either you take me to see Mickey or I spiral your swollen baby back into that bee-hive like a football. He won’t even fit in the Grand Canyon after the bees get through with him.”